


Normalcy

by theheartoftheshadowcat



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartoftheshadowcat/pseuds/theheartoftheshadowcat
Summary: Alternate AWE Elizabeth does not escape the Dutchman and therefore is able to save James, will this change things? Norribeth Multi-Chapter M for later content





	1. Aboard the Dutchman

The sickly green of the undead pirates made his stomach churn as no amount of blackout nights in the scum of Tortuga had ever left him and he had seen the very bowels of the earth. Shadows of men and women locked in the senselessness of drunken revelry so lascivious that they would make the devil blush red. Men and women lost their morals, their very identities in the shadows of a Caribbean sunset. Men and women who found their morals at the bottom of a brown bottle dripping in amber rum and laced with bloodshot wine. He had seen and witnessed things that no decent man should ever see, done things that the world would condemn him for if they ever found out. Loose women, long sweaty nights and slobbering nauseous mouths on the very edge of becoming sick. He wrinkled his nose on the verge of vomiting at the memory of those women, women who had never meant anything to anyone and no longer had the dignity or wherewithal to care and the stench was sickening to be sure, repulsive even but this...this was unmistakable.

This was the smell of death.

James Norrington had smelled that stink many times before, when two men got into a row over a game of cards it more often then not ended at the wrong end of a broken bottle or gun-barrel. He had stepped over many a drunken pirate in his lowest moments, snoring grunting, oinking swine who laid down with pigs and stunk of shit. Hell, James had wallowed among them long enough to be accustomed in their sordid company, right at home even in a brown ocean of booze and fog. But now, with his honor restored to him, he found his snobbery had also returned full-force and he wrinkled his upper lip into a nasty sneer which would have made a fine scalawag's snarl. Not something he was proud of, but all the same he had to admit it felt good to snarl at these men who dared to threaten his sensibilities and foul the seas with their scummy existence as he thought of the creatures he was about to face. These men, these degenerates, these disgusting specimens of human waste were little more than the rotting remains of what had once been great men.

Pirates, yes but men all the same. Mortal men who had at one time been fathers, human, desperate men who sought riches only to find themselves at the bottom of an ocean or at the wrong end of a sword. Elizabeth had to run away, had to get off of this cursed ship before they got to her too, bloody creatures. This ship was his, he had won it in battle and therefore the rules of decorum dictated that anyone on it was under his command. But he doubted that the undead followed such mortal courtesies as the rules of engagement, not that pirates ever did to begin with. They were called sea-dogs and not gentlemen for a reason and they obeyed the rules neither in death or in life. He had discovered that truth the hard way and he had to be careful but first, he had to make sure Elizabeth Swann got off the bloody thing before they came for her too.

If it was him or her which the Dutchman called then he would be the one to die. If James Norrington had any choice in the matter, then it would be him who fell to the ground dead. For it would be a shame for such a beauty to die even if she did not belong to him. To rob the world of such a treasure as her would surely be a He looked at those brown eyes of hers, the golden hair, and her lovely, lovely face and his heart constricted. She didn't love him, she had never loved him and God help him she never would. But he loved her so much, so desperately that he was willing to die for this woman who had constantly rejected his advances, constantly rejected him and as he looked into those chocolate eyes he felt tears coming. God she was beautiful. So dangerously beautiful. that she had made him forget his loyalties and his responsibilities and it was enough to drive him mad. Had driven him mad now that he thought of it! She had brought him to disgrace, to wreck and ruin and now to the brink of death.

His swan, the bird of beauty which would lead him to his death just like the old sailor's legend said, a swan in the morning was a thing of beauty and a swan in the evening was an omen of death. He laughed privately at the irony of it all. When he thought back to that day a decade ago, when Elizabeth had been singing some pirates shanty aboard the bow of his ship. How that traitor, Mr. Gibbs, the merchant sailor turned pirate had warned him that it was bad luck to bring a woman aboard and no good would come of it. James had laughed him off then, little silly old wife's tale about women being a sailor's curse. Little did he know how right that man was about this particular one at most. But she had been just a child ten years ago, singing a silly little song about things she could not possibly understand and he had thought his shipmate to be nothing more than a superstitious old fool of the worst kind.

The sort of man which made him scoff and have another glass of brandy in salute to the folly of those not as refined he. They had been right, of course, for ever since he had met this horrid woman in the innocence of her childhood he had not known just how bad his luck was about to turn. The moment she had grown into the woman he wanted above anything else, she had brought him nothing but misfortune, pain and consternation. James looked at her...she was crying, his Lizzie was crying... no not his, Turner's. All she was to him, all she ever had been to him, was the love of his wretched and lonesome life. He'd at one time had it all, the most respected man in her majesty's navy, the Commodore in command of his own fleet. He had been the one in control and always had been but now he was on the brink of death itself, perfectly healthy for the moment, despite the hammering of his heart. yes but dying all the same.

In control of his new life, till he had set eyes on that golden-haired temptress named for the bird of grace. Elizabeth Swann, the one woman he could not ever have and the one woman he always wanted. She was clutching his arm, grabbing him and he found himself unable to pull away from her despite his best efforts and good judgement. This woman was not his, the blacksmith's ring glinting on her hand mocked him as he looked at her beautiful face, his hand cupping her cheek for just the briefest moment. She closed her eyes, her skin as cold as ice from the oceanic chill which permeated the Caribbean night. Her skin was so soft, the softest thing he had touched in years. Tears filled his eyes as he sniffled like a pathetic child looking at the toy he wanted most but could not have; but she was no toy, no Elizabeth was the only woman to bring the proud soldier to his knees and he both loved and hated her for it. She did not pull away from his muscled, grubby hand, leaning into his touch, but oh how he wanted her to.

He wanted her rejection, wanted her cold aloofness. Wanted a refusal of his caress, for her to tell him that she was engaged and dash the little hope he had left away from him before the tiny flicker became a flame. Instead she placed her hand over his and pressed it there, both their cold hands beginning to warm at their combination and he allowed his thumb to travel over a plum-colored bruise on her dirty, porcelain cheek. A burning tear, scorching the tip of his left thumb as he looked at her and he fought against the urge to cringe as that single drop of salt water dripped slowly into the open cut on his knuckles. This single touch was all he would allow himself. One single caress to give himself a taste, one last wish of hope for what could have been. James pulled himself away from her too quickly as he heard the clunky footsteps of a pirate coming forward, and his blood ran cold at the sight of the man far worse than anything he could have ever expected.

James had seen corpses before, what soldier hadn't? He had seen men he cared for deeply, very deeply indeed, the best of his friends gone in a moment's notice or less. Young men, younger than himself even lying strewn here and there and not always in one piece either. Legs and arms strewn all about here and there and everywhere. It was enough to make even the strongest stomach turn and give even the stoutest of men nightmares and he'd had his share of them for certain. But all the death, that he had seen and caused himself, the years of destruction both personal and impersonal he had seen and caused nothing, nothing could have prepared him for this. For the man -no-the thing which made its way toward him was like something out of a twisted, pirates curse. Human but then not human all at the same time. Living but dead all at once.

His skin was yellow, decaying and scabbed over, there was all kinds of debris and gunk all over his face, his eyes deep and sunken in, he was sure one hell of a sight. He was covered in everything from dirt and sand to seaweed, literally everything including various sea creatures. A starfish and an urchin for example, but it was the eyes which gave him away. Those brown eyes were unmistakable. Turner's eyes. This was the long-dead father that Turner had been looking for for so long. But that meant the man was dead, and for a moment James felt his blood boil. He had put Elizabeth in mortal danger, nearly gotten her killed, and all for the sake of a dead man who had long-since abandoned him. James felt a sense of rage quelling any fear he had of the undead before him. Disgusting as he was it was a comfort strangely to think that the thing he now faced was already dead, raising the sword that the blacksmith had made him he forced Elizabeth behind him and set his jawline firmly in it's place.

He called on his military training back in England where he wished he had been now more than ever. Straight-backed, stiff upper lip, show no fear as he looked into the deep fathomless eyes of this unholy abomination of human refuge. Turning to the object of his often spurned affection as she pleaded with him to come with her; follow her and oh how badly he wanted to! But it was not to be, not his place. She was his beloved yes, but not his to love and he had to make himself accept that. If only she would release him, stop looking at him with that imploring pleading look as Turner's father advanced on him, bits of skin cracking and flaking grossly off his scabby cadaverous face. He kept his eyes on Elizabeth's for a long lingering moment wanting to drink in as much of her as he could before the end.

"Go, Elizabeth...I'll follow you." he told her if only he believed it.

She didn't believe it either, and told him so, "you're lying," she said.

He hated that she knew him so well. "Our destinies were entwined Elizabeth, but never joined." he said.

"That's not true!" she protested, "James I..."

James did not wait for her to respond, capturing her lips with his and not missing the subtle, nearly silent groan of passion she allowed he ran his tongue over the roof of her mouth. Warm and soft, his tongue found its home and he finally took what he had wanted for so long. Just one kiss was all he would allow himself. One stolen moment a taste of what could have been. He wanted her to pull away from him but then the worst thing that happened, did. Elizabeth Swann kissed him back. Parting her lips she allowed him into her as Bootstrap Bill Turner skulked forward like a massive ogre and he turned pulled away as she kept her hand on his face, noticing the throbbing pulse in his neck as he slowly began to panic. They were running out of time, the doom advancing toward them becoming more and more prevalent.

Unavoidable.

Elizabeth kept her hand on his face, not allowing him to break eye-contact with her as the labored breathing of the doomed man was an icy breeze on his increasingly bumpy skin. Goose-flesh, at least the kind which was bread out of fear, was not something he had experienced in many, many years. Not since he was a small boy who still believed that there were monsters underneath the bed. But the blast of cold air from a corpse's mouth sent cold shivers down his spine like the tendrils of a ghost's hair brushing his nape. He was too close, this immortal adversary was upon them now and he shoved her behind him as the horrid visage of the fallen man sneered jeeringly at them mocking them with a cracked and crooked smile that made Elizabeth long for teeth-cleaning chalk at the sight of their lemon-yellow color.

"Stand down sailor!" Norrington told him as Elizabeth was shoved behind him, knowing now it was too late for her to sneak off.

Damn it all!

"No one leaves the ship," Bootstrap intoned.

"That's an order!" James blustered, not wanting her to see how terrified he was.

"That's an order..." he mimicked, "PART OF THE CREW! PART OF THE SHIP!PART OF THE CREW! PART OF THE SHIP!PART OF THE CREW! PART OF THE SHIP!" he chanted as James turned toward Elizabeth.

"Run," he told her, "Go now!" He told her and she nodded dumbly

But she was too frightened to move as Bootstrap wrenched his sword out of his hand and dove it into his shoulder and he sank back against the rotting wood of the Dutchman. The pain in his shoulder searing and harsh as he gasped at the ice-cold touch of the blade rang through his skin. The sword he held in his hand as ornamental as it was sharp seemed to become too heavy for him and he dropped it with a clatter. And then he saw to his horror that Elizabeth had not done as she was told and gone somewhere safe, no she was kneeling down in front of him crying screaming as the horrible octopus-like face of Davy Jones appeared in front of them. James raised his hand, and took one last look at the woman he loved as the man asked him if he feared death. He was just about to raise his sword and answer the creature when Elizabeth spoke, hoisting him up over her shoulder while he groaned and bled, doing his best to retain his dignity.

Elizabeth knew she only had one shot at this, one shot before they were both on the end of the rope. James' green eyes were wide as she said, "We do not fear death but you will when we are done with you." and she threw the wounded man over the side of the ship before diving in afterwards.


	2. The Mermaid's Kiss

As a child Weatherby Swann had warned his daughter never to go swimming either in the night, the ocean, or the midst of dark water. In fact, it was better that she avoids the water altogether. Swimming was for fish he always told her, that's why man made boats and she had best stay out of the sea and out of trouble; and if only she had listened to him she might be safe and warm at home beneath the Caribbean sun instead of in the frigid ocean swimming away from a bunch of zombified pirates at God only knew what hour of the night. But alas she had not and was now fighting the current as James floundered and swallowed water while he fought to keep from drowning. She struggled, fighting her way toward the man who had once again tried to save her life and finally grabbed him underneath the arm and hauled him up, so he was clinging to her shoulders. He groaned in pain, a sound which normally would have caused her consternation but at this moment could not be more welcome.  

It meant he was alive, meant that he hadn't given up on her quite yet and had enough wherewithal about him to fight for his life. Elizabeth smiled at him over her shoulder at him before she turned back to her task. Needing to focus on the task at hand, because if she didn’t, she would lose confidence in herself and that would be bad for both. She squinted in the darkness of the midnight shadows for any sign of the ship, the  _Empress_ preferably, but it was not in sight and the Pearl was closer to them.  She knew James would be disgusted to find himself amidst pirates once again but there was nothing for it. She had to get him out of this water and somewhere warm before he died not at the hands of Davy Jones but from the onset of pneumonia. She plugged along in that frigid water her muscles aching as James groaned and spat saltwater from his otherwise sandpapered mouth.

Behind her there was a streak of blood staining her clothes as she fought desperately against the currents of water which battered her like the bruising fists of a ruffian who took the mickey out of her. How she wished James could help her, that he could use his powerful arms to help propel them forward into the night, but he was helpless his strength was waning and his grip becoming more and more feeble as they went. Her father would be appalled at the state of her. Her dress was tattered, her hair, was matted to the point of where it would never come undone again with a brush and needed to be chopped off at the root and set to grow in again before it was even manageable let alone back to its former glory and her skin and body grimy and bruised. His little girl who he had cherished, pampered, and groomed to be a princess was now a filthy, disgusting-smelling mess of a woman flouncing around with pirates when she ought to be hosting teas.

 Her father would be ashamed, and she knew she ought to be ashamed of herself. But one look at that handsome soldier behind her, resting limply against her back, as trusting as a small child belied any self-deprecation. His life was completely in her hands and what a chilling thought that was. To have this proud, noble man brought so low that he had to rely on her when just moments ago he had been ready, willing and able to fight for her. To take on the world in her name, as he had always done up to the point of where he was brought to his knees, it was just too much of a sacrifice for her to give up on him no matter how tired she was; and she was  _exhausted._  He coughed and spat the water out as she was forced to dip beneath the water to propel herself forward at a faster pace for, she feared they were running out of time. The cold of the water did him good, numbing the knifing pain while the salt kept the wound clean and prevented infection.

All Elizabeth could think about at that moment was getting to the ship and getting her companion somewhere safe and warm and out of these godforsaken waters before the undead came after them. Elizabeth moved strongly against the current for as long as she could, her eyes stinging and burning as she tried feebly to push herself forward in the green muck. Her eyes were red and bloodshot and burning, and she was in floods of tears. No longer caring about bravery when no one else could see her cry.  She had been through hell and a dear friend of hers was now in dire straits all on account of her and she felt just awful for it. So, she pressed on, the  _Pearl_ seeming further and further away as she went.

She swam for so long that it seemed like the water was warming, and her arms were giving way underneath her. Succumbing to the soreness mounting in them as James began to slip, his grip too loose to be held fast anymore as he fell off her back and began to sink to the depths of the sea. Elizabeth froze, she couldn't let that happen. If he were to drown then one of two horrible things would happen to him. One of which being he would drown and the other being he would end up doomed to spend the next century aboard the very ship the two of them were presently to escape.  Mustering all her strength she dove into the water and swam down hard against the current trying to get to him. Down, down, down into the ocean, nothing but a sickly vomit-green above them with a dying splatter of white light. But the further she pushed the more exhausted she became the more pressure the water seemed to exert.

Like a lover's deadly embrace enveloping them both in its darkness as she went resigning herself to the fact that it was all over. That soon she would be dead, and all of this would have been for nothing.  She watched as James plummeted in his blood-loss induced sleep, thinking that it would not be so bad if they died like this...together. No, he wasn't Will, but he was a companion and if they ended up on the  _Dutchman_ together for eternity then at the very least, she would have a companion to spend it with. Besides, she was tired, so very, very tired and she had done her best to save him despite everything. She made one last push forward and crashed into him. Wrapping her arms around him as she closed her eyes, she would see her father soon...and she was safe with the man who'd tried so hard to be her hero. She nestled into his arms welcoming death as she did so.

It was time to go, time to find out whatever life there was after this. Wherever the horizons took her and the man she carried, it was a comfort to know that their last act together had been for him to steal a kiss. A kiss which was his right, for he had put it all on the line for her and all she had ever given him was rejection, unfairly so. Always going after William, his wildness, his adventurism it had drawn her to him like a magnet and she had fell for it, hook line and sinker. But now as she knew death was, she regretted it all. Regretted her discontent, her restlessness the impulsive need for excitement which had led them both to where they were now, drifting into the darkness of a watery grave as she wrapped her arms around him for what would be the last time.She could feel someone grabbing them a cold and clammy thing covering her mouth. 

It didn't matter, she told herself, they were going to die. They were going to die and they were going to do it together. Elizabeth closed her eyes as something, presumably the current of the sea, pushed James closer to her as they fell.  Fine by her she thought, and with what she was sure would be her last living act, she wrapped her arms around the hero of her life. One last act of gratitude as the abyss met them endlessly with a bottomless blackness which hurt her eyes. She closed them and rubbed her head against James' chest, holding him as they sank lower and lower still till, she felt themselves hit something hard, the deck of a sunken ship. 

Not that it mattered, she thought, surprised she still had the wits about her to do so. Elizabeth blinked.  **She blinked.**  How very peculiar. It was from Elizabeth's -very limited experience- that dead people be they young or old did not in fact blink.  Being that they are dead and therefore incapable of doing so.  This being the case there was only one very implausible possibility. That being that she was alive. But that was impossible. She was at the bottom of the ocean with a wounded man fighting the raging turbulence of the sea. But here she was, aching and exhausted but very much alive and in James' arms as she had planned to die. Confused, she tried to stand, but couldn’t because she was still underwater and had to hold her breath as she was unable to breathe. Which did not explain at all how she was alive when she was certain, _certain_  that they had both swallowed enough waters to have drowned them both by now.

The incongruities of her current situation were beginning to make her head spin and ache and as she blinked her eyes, she could have sworn she was dead.  There was no other explanation for what she was looking at a sunken ship swarmed with jewels and surrounded by merpeople. Yes, merpeople. There right before her eyes was a mermaid. There was no mistaking them, long tail fins and topless; the works. But there she was, and she was as real as the nose on Elizabeth's face. She had long purple hair and her tail was a violent shade of purple which would have made a violet pale by comparison. She was beautiful. Much more so than any human Elizabeth had ever seen, and she was coming right toward them.  Her emerald eyes seemed to stare right through them and she reached over touching James' wounded shoulder with a shake of her head as she leaned down and kissed his lips, causing a knotting sensation in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach coiling like the rings of a poisonous snake in the bottom of her gut.

 It had one word, one horrible  _ugly_ word. Jealousy. Elizabeth Swann was jealous at the sight of another woman kissing her hero and she found herself suddenly blushing furiously. She had rejected him, tortured him, cast him aside, had no right to be jealous and yet she was. Blushing and ashamed of herself as her hero received attention from another woman, er...creature. But the moment her lips left another mermaid, this one, a male was approaching her, and she had little time to ponder her emotions let alone feel ashamed when the merman grabbed Elizabeth before kissing her too. Never had she felt anything like this, it wasn't loving, wasn't consuming, it was life-giving, making the ability to breathe underwater second nature to her and she inhaled deeply, grateful for the ability to take a breath.

 "Ahoy Sailors," the merman said in a voice gargled by water, "and yes, we can speak in human tongues as we are only half-aquatic." 

Elizabeth was stunned, to hear these mermaids speak in plain English like they were proper Englishmen and women rather than sea creatures was amazing to her. This must have shone plainly on her face for both the merpeople chuckled at her shock and foolishness as they made their way toward them and lifted James into their strong arms, extracting her from his embrace. This, much to Elizabeth's surprise and delighted consternation elicited a moan of discontent from the Admiral who frowned and reached for her before turning over and falling fast asleep from obvious exhaustion. He was asleep not dead, just asleep and she thanked the heavens for it before noting again that they were still underwater, and they were breathing. A physical impossibility to be sure but a reality, nonetheless.   

 "We kissed you, a mermaid kisses you and you shall never drown." said the feminine one, "Not that two lovers at sea ought to drown needlessly, rather shameful really."

 "Lovers? Oh no, we aren't..." stammered Elizabeth.

"Aren't you?" said the man, "That kiss seemed pretty ardent to me." 

His companion blushed at the mention of the kiss and Elizabeth found her own cheeks becoming inflamed at the memory of his lips covering hers. His hard-solid lips, much firmer than any man she had ever kissed before. The taste of them, pure and empty, no rum like Jack's or tobacco like William. Just the taste of his emotions and the feel of his love and care, simple and undiluted. She had never had a kiss like that before, passionate and yet subtle at the same time and Elizabeth wanted more, craved the feeling of his firm spitless lips over hers as she inhaled the remnants of his cologne mixed with the sharpness of the ocean which clung to him always. She felt her pulse quicken at the memory and had to look away from the now-softly-snoring man who lay wounded on the deck. 

The Mermaid smile knowingly, "I thought so dear," she said, "No shame in it you know, he is rather good looking, for a human at least." 

She has no idea, Elizabeth thought with a glance down at the man before nodding, "are we going to die?" she asked.

"No," said the merman, "but there is a condition."  Her heart leaped, they were going to live! He continued, "Promises at sea are sacred and must be kept."

"Promises?" Elizabeth echoed, confused.

The mermaid at his side reached down and gathered up what must have been the largest, most perfect pearl that Elizabeth had ever seen. While most had a small scuff or stain, this one was without blemish; so perfectly white that it almost glistened.  Plucking a single scale from her shiny tail the mermaid crushed it and sprinkled the dust over it and then, just when Elizabeth thought things could not become any stranger, the orb began to glow and hover above her hand. Magic. She was sorting out her love-life at the bottom of the ocean, breathing underwater and discussing her future with a couple of magic mermaids reminding her of promises she did not remember making. But there it was, the crux of it all. Plain as day. Inside the center of the pearl was the day aboard the  _Dauntless_  appeared before her eyes, when she had been running from the crew of the  _Pearl_  run by Barbarossa and begging James to save William and Jack from a fate, they had gotten themselves into. 

The sight of her father standing by her side made her eyes water and she was grateful for the sea to hide the tears which now ran down her cheek.  But then she saw herself telling her father that she had accepted the commodore's proposal and then the vision dissipated into nothingness.  The sight of the only two men in her life who had ever taken any sort care with her both healthy and alive made her weep openly. What did she care that a pair of unnamed magical beings saw her weep? Her father was dead, and she missed him. The man who had tried to protect her had literally been dragged to the bottom of the ocean on her account.  She had every reason to weep and weep she did. Elizabeth cried so hard that she had to throw up all over the front of herself while the mermaids watched pityingly.

 "You are betrothed at sea, and a betrothal at sea is a sacred one." the male one told her, "don't make his sacrifice for nothing."

Elizabeth nodded, how could she refuse? This was the man who had given her everything and he deserved the same from her. They both smiled at her as he packed the wound in James' side with seaweed and mud to stop the bleeding before loading them onto a dingy which had somehow remained intact. Loading them inside. Elizabeth just climbed in as James was tied down with more algae and she was handed two ores. The merman took out what appeared to be a shark's tooth and began to hack on the weed anchoring it down as she asked the question burning her mind,

"Why did you save us--- not that I am ungrateful mind you!" she said quickly.

"We're just right sods for love!" she said, "It seemed a shame that a man so gallant and brave should receive nothing more for his efforts than a watery grave." 

 Elizabeth nodded, that would be a shame.

"Godspeed!" said the merman, "May you and your betrothed keep safe on the horizons."" he called as slowly, the couple floated gently to the surface.


	3. Dreaming

James Oliver Norrington seldom dreamt. It was actually a point of pride with him that he could sleep so well and untroubled because he had no dreams; but now he was certain that he must have been dreaming. One moment he was on what appeared to be the rotting remains of a ship, a horrible, disgusting wreck of a ship fighting some creature from the black lagoon. A horrid, ugly thing of a man with what appeared to be an octopus on his face and awful urine-colored eyes which seemed to stare right through him to the depths of his very soul. Sending a chill down his spine which would have made any other man beg for death. But James had not begged for death or for life, he had just laid there watching this monster advance and take away his sword.  The sword which had at one time  been a sign of prosperity for him had now become an omen of death and he welcomed it fully.

Death meant peace. Relief from the torrid, painful life he was now forced to live by his own stupid, foolish heart.  The heart which had lead him on a wild goose-chase after a wicked, beauty. Swans were never good luck for sailors when the night was dark and the winds sang their requiem masses to those who dared to listen. It was said -and James had found it to be true- that if a sailor found his way toward the bellow of a swan that he would be following it's cry to his death; and Jesus Christ wasn't that the truth? He had followed the swan and now he had met his death, or so he thought.  He had seen the monster, he had seen the Devil himself and he had looked him right into those yellow eyes. Had looked the terror of Davy Jones right in his disgusting face and even raised his sword to fight him, but he had lost.

Been forced to lie down and submit like some common worthless mutt in the street with no home. And right in front of the swan who had lead him to his untimely end. Yet still, in that moment, Norrington felt no regrets.  He had kissed the woman he loved goodbye and done all he could to keep her safe. If death wanted him now, he would fall into the embrace with the smile of a contented lover on his face. But he was dreaming, he had to be; for there at the brink of death he had felt a kiss. Not the kiss of death no, but not the touch of the woman he loved either. No, this kiss was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. It was life-giving, breathing into his mouth and then he fell asleep. Not dead. Just asleep. James knew this because he was snoring, could feel each one rising up in his throat, hear them getting louder and louder with every breath he exhaled. James never denied that he snored, it was just something he always did. 

His bed mates in Tortuga had often complained about the noise and woken him up in the middle of the night to take their pay and hurry off. Had it been any other night, he might have just assumed that he was drunk off cheap rum and snoring in a dingy at the docks with the ocean rumbling away in his ears. But this was no ordinary night, no tonight he was dead and therefore should not be snoring because dead people did not in fact sleep, snore or make any other noise of any other kind. James had been around enough of them to understand this as a fact of life and yet, he was having the most  _wonderful_  dream. He was floating on a sunken ship being kissed by the stuff of legends; a mermaid.  Beautiful, magical and so completely unbelievable that if it were not a dream he would have thought himself to have gone mad.

His lips kissing hers as she sent him gently back to the surface of the Caribbean sea where he woke as gently as though he were lying on his old feather-bed back at his fine townhouse in Port Royal. But still -James knew he  _had_ to be dreaming- for when he woke the battle was raging all around him, guns, cannon-fire, flames erupting all around him. Nothing if not dangerous, nothing he was not used to and that did not frighten him; no but the next thing he noticed was that his arm did not hurt anymore, his side repaired as though he had never been injured and he flexed his hand into a fist easily. Strange to be sure, but not impossible. Good men, those who followed the rules and lived by the laws of king and country, never died at the point of a scoundrel's stolen sword. James -arrogant as it was- had always believed that his maleness, his body, was of such rigid constitution that it healed itself from all physical maladies and wounds.

It wasn't the healing that puzzled him, no, it was the sight of the woman atop him on the boat.  Her golden hair, long eyelashes, full lips and slender hands hanging limp and palm-up at her sides. Drool pooling in her mouth, foaming slightly, as it leaked down her chin. The sight of her was unmistakable,  **Elizabeth Rosemary Swann.** The unrequited love of his life. It appeared that she had fallen asleep for a moment and jolted herself awake with a violent yank of her bobbing head.  She was fighting to keep her eyes open as she feebly made an attempt to propel them forward and away from danger.  The sight of her breaking whatever was left of his heart.  Her eyes were heavy, a violet shade of purple underneath and tearful as she fought to keep awake, too tired to keep her eyes open but too frightened to rest. James didn't blame her. He felt the same way as he watched her helplessly fall asleep.

"Lizzie..." he whispered, using the childhood endearment and giving her shoulders a little bit of a shake. 

She woke with a start, flinging her arms around his neck and sobbing as she clutched him to her. James was in shock. As far as he could remember she was engaged to another man and did not feel any sort of affection toward him. That kiss she had given him was out of pity if anything else. But the way she was holding him was almost as if...as if... she  _cared_ for him. He brought his arms up around the hysterical woman and pulled her close. Noticing how swollen her arms were amidst the throbbing of her muscles. As much as it killed him to remove her arms around his neck, he easily switched places with her and laid her back against the bags of  sand which helped with the buoyancy of their boat.

"James!" she sobbed, clutching him to her and hiding in his coat, causing him to land on top of her for a moment. 

James landed heavily on top of her, wincing as he heard her groan beneath his sudden weight.  As he landed however he felt their lips touch in the briefest kiss. It was just the lightest kiss, a complete accident really but it sent shock-waves through his entire body and he wanted more desperately. He wanted to pin her to the plywood of the dingy and make them both feel better, make this all go away. But right now he had to get her out of this accursed sea before god only knew what came after them again and he wasn't so lucky a second time. He pushed himself off of her as much as he loathed to do so and propped her up slightly so that she did not tip out of the boat as he knew he would have to become more forceful in his movement to hurry their escape.

"Try to rest Elizabeth." he said, "I'll get us to safety." he tried to sound cheerful, reassuring even and she hoped he bought it.

"No, I'll never rest again," she answered as she tried to push her aching arms to move forward, groaning from the aching of her cold stiffened muscles.

James sighed as he took the ores from her open hands and gave the dingy a good hard shove away from the battle toward the white sails of the  _Empress_ visible in light of this warfare and as he pushed himself toward his own ship, not wanting to see anymore pirates for as long he lived. It no longer mattered to him that Turner was her betrothed, he was no good for her and she would not be returning to him if James had anything to say about it. He hoped she would not be too angry with him for this...he only did it to protect her. He did  _everything_ to protect her; his arms aching he finally made his way to his own ship where the pirates had forgotten about his own ship in the feuding with that damnable Captain Jack Sparrow. His own captain was waiting for him, white-faced and frightened. James did not miss the look of utter relief that passed over his face at the sight of the Admiral, bedraggled and soaking but alive nonetheless.

He quickly lowered the rope and Elizabeth groaned waking up a little bit as a splash of ocean hit her forehead.  She opened her brown eyes and blinked up at James, standing proud and strong in front of her extending his hand to help her into the boat.  She took it, liking the feeling of his hand wrapping around her own. So warm, so strong, and so very  _steady_ as he helped her on deck. Elizabeth was trembling, with cold or something else he did not know but as he wrapped his arms around her James found he did not care to find out. Instead he nodded to his captain and shook her so that she was awake enough to notice what was going on around her. The battle raged on, and James held her tighter against him. Knowing that it would reach them soon enough, knowing that the battle would be upon them soon enough and he might never get the chance again. He did not miss the way she intimately curled against him as she snuggled into his embrace and he smiled down at the top of her head.

"Admiral who is she?" the Captain asked, confused.  
  
"The late Governor's daughter, Elizabeth Swann." James said simply.  
  
"Captain Flex Heckles miss Swann." he said in greeting, tipping his hat.  
  
"Charmed I'm certain," she said sleepily.

"My deepest condolences for the loss of your father."  he said, his voice sympathetic, "he was a good man."

"Thank you," she hummed. "Indeed he was." 

Good lord she was so tired. Her eyes were closing by themselves and she was so grateful James was there to hold her up as in less than a moment, she was fast asleep on him, tiny gurgling snorts coming from her nose like a small child with a head-cold; He froze, stunned for a moment and reaching down splashed a handful of water on his face to awaken himself.  Only to find himself wide awake,to find out he was not dreaming; he was here, and the woman he loved was fast asleep right in front of him. Her dirty blonde hair dangling from bangs in her face as the diamond pins she had worn to keep it in place had come loose to the point of well...uselessness. James could not help himself, he smiled at the sight of her so tired that she had curled up against him and passed out cold. Wearing the diamond hair-pins he had given her on her sixteenth birthday just two years ago before she had met that accursed blacksmith he hated so much.

The knowledge that she still wore those silly little things made him smile for some strange reason. Made his heart go all soft and mushy inside like an overripe peach which ought to be tossed out but smelled too sweet to be discarded right away. He reached out and moved a lock of hair behind her ear, and she moaned, snuggling him as the drool dried and stuck her cheek to the leather of his coat as the guns and cannons exploded all around them waking the poor woman who sobbed and held onto his coat.  Sobbing as he turned to look over his shoulder at the action in front of him; only to have his head wrenched back to meet the hysterical eyes of a terrified, filthy girl who was griping him so tightly her knuckles went white. 

"James, don't look please..." she begged him, afraid his old blood-lust for pirates would come back and he might leave her, "please...I can't.... lose you again..."

The Captain raised his eyebrows at her declaration but said nothing as before James could reply she captured his mouth in hers as their ears rang from the inside out with the booms of death and destruction. The horrible thundering of the fight resonated all around them. It took James a moment to respond, because being kissed at a time like this was the last thing he was expecting. But slowly, ever so slowly he kissed her back, his tongue running along her teeth, feeling and tickling the roof of her mouth as her hands came up to hold the sides of his neck Nails scraping the sides of his throat gently as she did so. James moaned deeply and held her for a long moment, not wanting the moment to end as a cannonball came dangerously close to the ship splashing in the water far too close for comfort.

"Jesus Christ!" Norrington shouted, pulling Elizabeth away from the edge, she screamed and huddled against him. 

She was no coward, but battles were never one of her favorite things. A few years ago, she might have thought differently. The adventure would have excited her, but now after the death of her dear father and everything else that had happened this night she just wanted it to stop. Wanted her and James to be back in time three years ago when he had first offered his hand in marriage.  What a fool she had been! Lusting for adventure when she should have just taken his hand in marriage and stayed home. Avoiding this whole mess, no pirates, no wildness and two or three children of her own sitting on her father's knee. Not this, such dark waters and near-death in the summer chill of a ghostly Caribbean night. 

 "We have to get on land!" Elizabeth told him, "he cannot travel on land!" looking around frantically, "Follow the  _Pearl..._ quickly!"

This was the  **very last** thing James wanted to do. But one look at her face, the tears and the darkness under her eyes and he nodded without fighting her. If it meant one more kiss like that, one more dream that he never had to wake up from she would have his soul if she asked it. He turned to his first-mate calling to the man to follow the other ship off into the darkness of the distant island. He watched as the man took the helm and quickly, very quickly shoved her into the lush Admiral's cabin where she would be safe from cannons till he had the time to tend to her properly. Unfortunately, he was a little more rough than he intended and she stumbled awkwardly into his room and landed heavily on his bed.

Good, a few minutes on his bed and she would be comfortable and pass out cold thus putting her out of harms way and allowing him to focus. James had to watch her for a moment or two however, giving her what he hoped would be a comforting smile. His mouth had not smiled in so long that he felt strange. It probably looked more like a grimace than a grin but there was nothing to be done. It was what it was and James had work to do. He turned to go back to the deck to go back and give his crew their orders, to make sure he got there with her and himself in one piece, when of all things to happen, Elizabeth grabbed his hand forcing him to look at her.

"James," she murmured, "come to bed."

"With you?" he asked shocked.

"Please, you're tired...we're both so tired."

James wanted to refuse. He had to man a crew, but just the word 'tired' made his eyes heavy and he yawned loudly. Laughing a little when she nodded knowingly and moved over a bit to make room in the bed. James' pride failed him and he almost collapsed onto the mattress, his back grateful for the softness beneath him. His muscles aching and sore as he lowered himself to the bed. It was so soft, and so warm, much softer and warmer than the bottom of the sea or the hole of a rowboat. It had been weeks now since he had lain in his own bed. He had forgotten, in all the commotion just how tired he was and how pleasant it was to lay on something softer than a wooden deck. But the one thing in particular which nearly moved him to tears as he laid down beside her  was the fact that she was there. She was sober, She did not just want his money, for the first time in years, James was laying beside a woman who actually cared for him.

He had to be careful not to touch her or to get too close. She was engaged to be married to another man although her recent conduct was sending him mixed signals to say the least. But James was too tired to think about those signals right now, his muscles cracking and popping as he attempted to pull off his coat and boots, a gentleman never slept in his coat and boots, his father had told him so since he was a little boy. But then again was he really even a gentleman these days? After all, gentlemen did not do such things as consort with whores and pirates and kiss those women promised to other men no mater how much he wanted them. But still he wanted to retain some semblance of normalcy, some sort of routine to follow less he lose his mind. 

Again she disrupted his musings."James, never mind that, " Elizabeth murmured, nearly asleep as she reached up and grabbed for his hand blindly in the darkness. "Just come here, rest for me..."

He nodded, struggling at least to get his coat off as he got stupidly to his feet dumbstruck with exhaustion. She got up and went to help him, stumbling as she got blearily to her feet and nearly knocking him over. James helped her, feeling this overwhelming need to hold onto her but holding her hand was all he could allow himself. Anymore would surely be a sin. He was only dimly aware when she closed her eyes and snuggled up to him. A little closer than he would have expected but he was not complaining.  She tore the buttons of his waistcoat, struggling to get him out of it feeling the broadness of his tense shoulders as she stared into his eyes. candlelight catching shadows as she closed the gap between them with a long, slow kiss.

James groaned, holding the back of her neck as he dipped her slightly. His first sober kiss in so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like.  Her hands traveled down his arms and along his back as the sounds of guns in the distance grew fainter and fainter as the candlelight glowed around them. James brought his hand up to cup the back of her head, moaning as he pulled away from her with only mild regret. Ending the kiss but not pulling out of her arms as he traced the bruise on her cheek. She tried to hide her wince from him, wanting to be strong or at least appear stronger than she felt. James of course, was not falling for this and his blood boiled at the sight of her scrapes and injuries.  His Lizzie...the sweet girl he had loved so much now battered and bruised with marks which might have made a drunken pirate weep.

This was all Turner's fault! Chasing pirates never ends well the bloody idiot! He should have figured that out by now, he could have gotten her into trouble...well worse trouble. James hated to admit it because the idea was unthinkable but in the light of recent events James knew that he could have been too late. That William's insane quest to save this...this dead man could very well have gotten killed! He cupped her face in his hand and turned it side to side for inspection, making a mental note to throttle Turner when next he saw him. Her chin red and swelling, her arms positively pulsing with a cramp which would require an entire glacier of ice to silence. Oh yes Turner was going to pay for this! What horrified him the most however, was the nasty, bleeding gash in her left cheek which looked angry and red and was almost artistic in it's place amidst a kaleidoscope of violet welts so pulp

"Elizabeth..." he whispered, stroking her cheek where the bruise left spots. "Does it hurt terribly, should I fetch the---" his voice hoarse as she silenced him with a deeper kiss and he moaned.  
  
This was not the kiss of a desperate, dying man aboard the Devil's vessel. No, this was the ardent kiss of two lovers stealing one private moment in the middle of the night. A temptress and a broken man finding solace in one another's arms as a dark tropic night. The water roaring in their ears matched the beating of his heart as it hammered like some stupid love-struck schoolboy having his first kiss causing his ears to pulse and throb painfully but he ignored it. More interested in just how deep he could make the kiss before he -or Elizabeth- had to breathe. So far it had been a good half-minute and she was still kissing him. James loved it, he had waited so long for this moment, in her arms, alone with him and yet, ever the gentleman he had to pull away from her.

"Stop," he muttered, "you're tired...we shouldn't..." but she shushed him. 

"Not so tired James, come here." she whispered, pressing her lovely body against him, and heaven help him, James Norrington gave in.

It started with a single kiss. Testing the waters before he plunged all the way in. His restraint was collapsing, as he put his hand beneath her golden hair to hold her head in place. She sighed and rubbed his shoulders as he brought his hands up around her back and pressed her close to his raging male body.  She blushed scarlet and noted with no small amount of delight that he was crimson also. His body rosy in the candlelight was a rustic rosewood hue in the dimness.  She watched his throat work in the firelight, beads of sweat glistening on his skin as he tried futilely to resist her when every fiber of his being wanted her and she knew it. His hands were clammy on her neck and as it traveled down her back she felt him trembling like a virgin schoolboy and she found it precious.

She tangled her hands in his hair, clinging to him for a long moment and never wanting to let go of him for as long as they both lived and god help him he hated that he had to let her go. His hands pushing her gently away from him seemed to do it begrudgingly, but he was a gentleman and she was a lady and a gentleman did not abuse his position. Elizabeth may think she wanted him, her kisses told him as much but James knew she was not thinking clearly; she was exhausted and he had just saved her from certain death. Well in all fairness, they had saved one another but all the same she was too tired to know what she was doing, and he would not allow her to do something she might regret in the heat of the moment. 

Instead he allowed her to cling to him for a moment, hugging her as she nestled under his chin closing her eyes while she listened to the beating of his heart. James tried to slow it down, tried to stop his heart from hammering as he held her close, realizing after a moment that she had begun to cry.  James didn't blame her, he felt like crying too and gently, very, very gently, he lowered them both to the bed and allowed her to lean against him as he made little circles on her back. Tipping up her chin he gave her a kiss which was so deep, so passionate that she had to fall sideways on the bed, taking him with her so that they were both lying on their sides with the ocean whispering outside their window. James continued the kiss, unable to stop himself, to control his emotions as he cupped her neck in his firm hands and allowed her to deepen the kiss as she allowed him to hold her, to love her, vying for his protection as slowly the relief became too much for them both.

They both began to weep, clutching one another like two frightened children in a thunderstorm and it took a moment for James to realize that he was in fact, crying. He hadn't done so in so many years that it actually made his eyes sting with the sudden saltiness of the tears. It was as if the ocean was pouring from his eyes, cruel and warm and as turbulent as his emotions but to Elizabeth, just as beautiful. To see the pride of the navy, the man who scorned all those beneath him in such a fragile,  _human_ place was as refreshing as it was beautiful.  They both cried, everything that had happened to them making it impossible not to as Elizabeth curled her arms around his waist and laid on her heart. James, trying to comfort her but so tired that his body seemed to adhere to the bed and movement becoming impossible. His arms anchoring around her, he felt his eyes slipping shut as she adjusted herself to the point where she was using him for a bed.

James shushed her, kissed her, and arranged the duvet around her to keep her warm as her sobs finally quieted and she allowed her eyes to droop as he caught her final tear on the tip of his thumb. James watching as his own tired face, reflected in the water wavered in the droplet and he silently, put his thumb into his mouth as if to kiss away her sadness. He could hear the rushing of the water beneath the  _Empress_ as it sped them to safety and he closed his eyes, Elizabeth snoring softly as her fatigue finally put her to sleep. It took a little less than three minutes for him to start rolling over, making sure to pull her into his arms and smiling when he felt her snuggling into his chest.  James, could feel his throat bubbling up, knew he had fallen asleep and was just barely conscious when she whispered, one final sentence in the darkness of the cabin.

"I love you too James..."said his dream, but of course, he wasn't dreaming.


	4. No Longer a Gentleman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains M-rated sexual content you have been warned!

 Sometime in the middle of the night, the Admiral woke in a cold sweat, his hair soaking as though he had just been for a swim, his body hot with night sweats as the ghosts of his nightmare haunted him. Hunted him down like some wanted man, the  _Dutchman,_ Davy Jones, a sword in his side. Elizabeth, he kissed her goodbye and then, a sword in his side, and his shoulder. He did not fear death, he did not. But dear god it hurt. His life was slipping out of him, he was dying, and Lizzie was screaming, calling to him but he could not go to her, he was too weak. All he could do was watch her and pray that the last look he gave her told her everything that was ever in his heart, and then he closed his eyes waiting for the end to come. Waiting for it all to be over, when something was shaking him, shaking him out of the dark, off the moldy old ship and into the arms...of the woman he loved. Dimly silhouetted in the orange candlelight of the Admiral's cabin where he was only dimly aware that he had at some point fallen asleep.

Yes, it was a dream, he was asleep in his bed on his ship, and this whole nightmare, was little more than a dream, and a very realistic dream at that! Mermaids and kisses and sunken ships, all around his head and it swam painfully. Making him dizzy, making his head ache, as he struggled blindly against the seaweed bonds which had somehow, someway ended up tying him to some rowboat. What a wild dream this was, what a wild night's sleep this had been. He was dreaming, he was dreaming, except when he wasn't dreaming and somehow, this all felt all too real to be a dream and when he rolled over, the reality of who he was in the room with, hit him in the face. Elizabeth was holding him, her hands warm and gentle on the back of his neck as she peered earnestly into his eyes.

She was still calling to him, "James! James!" and when he turned to look at her, she was stroking his face, eyes gentle and calming as she looked tenderly at his face. 

He breathed slowly, in and out, in and out as he inspected his own hands, all there with nothing more than a scratch or two and some old scars from passed battles. Alive, he was alive. In bed with Elizabeth beside him her arms supporting his back, and he stared at her, she looked sleepy, disgruntled even, dare he say grumpy as though she had been suddenly woken up from a sound sleep. She looked perturbed yes, but not angry and she did not move out of his reach as he- wanting to assure himself- that she was there reached up to stroke her face, wincing when she flinched from his grazing of a bruise.  Her eyes closed and she pressed his hand there, ignoring the pain from the pressure and he noticed that she was crusted in salt and her hair was matted but she was still the only thing anchoring him to sanity.

"Elizabeth..." he breathed, stunned that she was beside him, "What happened? I told you to run, I told you..."

"Shush James, it was a nightmare, " she soothed.

"Mmmm... nightmare?" he asked wearily.

"Yes we are safe, it's over now." she told him, kissing his cheek.

James blinked up again, shutting his eyes, he was so sleepy. So worn out that he didn't even notice when he fell back into the pillow and passed out again. Having the same dream, the same, awful, deadly dream which had tormented him all night and again he woke in shadows too dark to see through. This time he fumbled in the dark for the chamber pot, and he vomited nastily, loud retching sounds which woke his sleeping bed-mate. Elizabeth moaned in annoyance, having just gotten comfortable enough to ignore that snoring sound he had been making in her ear nonstop for the past three hours straight.  But one look at James, sick in the chamber-pot made her more worried than angry and she got out of bed lighting a candle and bringing him some water as he spat out the bile in his stomach and she massaged his back. 

"There there," she soothed, "get it all up." 

James groaned and spat as she reminded him again that they were safe, that they had nothing to worry about and the realization she was right nearly made him weep. He seemed to have fallen out of his nightmare and back into his dreams and what a beautiful dream it was. He was sailing the sea on a beautiful starless night with the woman of his dreams tending him like a wife would her sick husband, something he had hoped would have been a reality some years ago but was happy to accept now. He was warm, he was comfortable, and alive, but most importantly he had escaped and he had merely been dreaming. His Lizzie (he had long forgotten that she was Turner's and did not care to remember at the moment) his Lizzie was most of all, safe and in his bed. Even if she didn't love him, it was better than nothing, he'd had his fill of nothing when it came to the love of his life.

It all seemed too good to be true, too perfect almost. But he knew from looking at her that the dream was real. Everything had happened to him came flooding back. The ocean, the ship, the struggles and finally the kisses and her mumbled confession in the heat of the moment. She had said she loved him, was sleeping beside him in his bed and had admitted to emotions that he had been wishing to hear for the passed three years. But she wasn't thinking of him, no, she was probably thinking about Turner right now. Not him, Turner, not him. She meant I love you to the other man in her life, and felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest at the thought. A painful one but he had to remember that she didn't really love him, did not really need or want him and that he had never had a chance with her to begin with. But then, she had kissed him several times that night, had held onto him and fallen asleep in his bed.

James released her getting up and going to the other side of the room to collect his thoughts, head reeling as he heard her come up behind him and turn him to look at her. In the shadows of the candle-flame the couple appeared to be even more so the ardent lovers found at sea. James stood stalk-still for a moment or two, fingering the ringlets under her eyes and she closed them, smiling a little when she took his hand to place it back on her cheek where it belonged. James melted inside, feeling sick and elated all at once.  He was confused, he had a headache, and she was keeping his hand pressed to his cheek and not letting him pull away from her as again that night she lowered her head and captured his mouth  again and he did not fight her. He couldn't bear to push her away and as James let his other hand travel down her side, he noticed, that she was not pulling away.

She was not stopping him, not telling him no. Instead she kept pulling him closer, kept kissing him. Pushing his coat further and further off of his broad shoulders while he kissed her, powerless to do anything else. It was as if she were actively trying to arouse him, trying to make him love her. Allowing him to pull away from her lips only to hide his face in her neck while she sobbed and held onto him for a moment. Crying, holding him as he moved them both to the edge of the bed, where they were now sitting up and Lizzie had climbed into his lap to hide her face in her neck and he stroked her hair, soothing her, caressing her and she wept into his skin, washing the remnants of mud in the most heart-wrenching rainfall in the universe.

"Elizabeth..." he murmured, petting her," Lizzie..." he couldn't think of anything else to say to her as he cuddled her.

"You almost  ** _died_** James..." she sobbed, "He almost killed you! It's all my fault!"

"Shh...Lizzie..." he whispered. "Look at me. Look. At. Me."  When she did he wiped her eyes, "This is not your doing, I made the choice and if I had died, I'd rather it be for your sake, then for some meaningless cause for the crown."

Elizabeth had no answer for this, with a wordless cry, she grabbed him and forced her mouth over his which such a passion that he fell backwards on the bed and was lying down while she forced her tongue down his throat. James moaned and deepened it, done with fighting his desires,  despite his mind, whatever rational part of it was left, pleading for him to stop.He was a gentleman, a gentleman...he had to ...stop but God her mouth felt good on his lips. He gasped and tugged her closer as the  _Empress_ was met with a brief rocking of choppy waters which caused them to fall to the floor, so wrapped up in the kiss that they hardly registered the expensive Indian rug in front of the bed scraping her back as she wrenched the blasted coat off of him at last. James was terrified, not of her but of himself.

He had no idea what had come over both of them, the classy lady and the gentleman caught in a haze of passion. But he was too shocked to ponder the wantonness of her at the moment.  His hands were holding her shoulders as she turned her head to move her tongue down even further. James untied the drawstring of his trousers, knowing he had to stop... knowing he  _couldn't_ stop. He pushed up her dress while she clutched him, his control fraying as she gasped and breathed into his mouth only for air. She moaned into his open mouth, allowing her nails to scrape the thin fabric of his grubby white dress-shirt. James had to stop her, she didn't belong to him, she wasn't his... he struggled out of the shirt and exposed his naked chest.

Elizabeth turned her head to look at him,  running her fingers along a long, crooked scar which snaked its way down to his lean belly. James shivered, noticing that he no longer felt tired, that she looked exhausted certainly, but her kisses told him otherwise. The more he tried to be a gentleman the more she pressed on and James was just done with decorum as he lifted her off the floor and pressed her into the wall.  Pushing her dress up he felt her squirm as he cupped her garter-covered thigh, long fingers sliding down her slender leg. She gasped bringing her hand down to hold his own in place as he hiked her dress up and out of his way. James had used enough whores in Tortuga to know what he was doing on a basic level but this was something else entirely. Elizabeth was no rough-and-tumble, dirt-under-the-nails-slut in the back-alley of the lowest hole in the wall on earth. She was a gentle-bread lady and he needed to be equally as gentle with her.

She made a breathless sigh and rested her head against the wall her eyes closed as he pulled the grubby tattered dress over her head and tossed it to the side where it deflated like a collapsed sail. Now in her corset and chemise as the ship picked up speed and wrapped a slender leg around his waist as James slid his hand up to cup her bottom in his strong hand. Her muscles tensed as he pulled her close to him and she felt something poking through the fabric of his loose-fitting pants and she started. Caught a little bit off-guard by the realization that he was fully erect and hard as the end of a sword. James lowered her over him realizing that her chemise only fell to her waist and that she wore no cover over her womanhood; a wonderfully shocking revelation.  The proper, haughty socialite of Port Royal did not like to wear undergarments to shield her womanhood, he thought, how very interesting.  
  
_"James..."_ she moaned slumping against the wall.   
  
"Shh Elizabeth, trust me..." he murmured kissing her thigh as he slid her garter off.  
  
"I do," she whispered "but I can't _breathe..._  " 

It took James a moment to realize what she meant before he noticed that her heaving breasts were still firmly clasped inside her corset and remembering what happened last time she said that in front of him he didn't hesitate to reach up and tear the accursed undergarment from her body.It came loose with a thick crunching noise as the bone-hooks snapped and broke. James tossed it to the side where it hit the wall and splintered, noticing that she was naked as God made her now. Naked and and as beautiful as any mermaid he had ever dreamed of while she leaned against him to catch her breath. He stood for a moment allowing her to rest her head against his chest while she drew in long deep breathes. Slowly sliding her chemise over her head to reveal her naked body, bruised and dirty, caked in salt from the ocean but still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Slender, muscular, golden hair and chocolate eyes whose depths James would have been happy to drown in. He watched her relieve her own tension for a moment, long fingers which had gripped a blade by the hilt now doing the most innocent of feminine interactions. James could not take his eyes off her small delicate breasts as she soothed those tight spots from her ladylike dress.

Good God she had no idea what she did to him, he thought as his eyes locked on her and he appreciated the woman before him. Most men mooned over large buxom women with breasts too big for their hands. Not James, he wanted them just the right size to fit in his hand and hers were the perfect size, the most perfect James had ever seen. She raised her head gently and exposed them to him  as he framed her face with his left hand sliding it down to cup her neck with his right.  Her brown eyes fluttered shut, and she let out a breathless little cry as he carefully, tenderly, lowered his mouth to her nipple and gave it an open-mouthed kiss unlike anything she had ever felt. James felt her hands tangle in his brown hair, only now realizing that he had lost his powdered wig in the water. It didn't matter. He liked the feeling of her hands tangling his hair, her nails scraping his scalp as she held him gently to her breast where he continued his ministrations.

He grinned privately as she arched her neck and he heard the clink as her diamond hairpins fell to the floor allowing her yellow hair to spill down her back. James closed his eyes, loving the softness of her hair as it cloaked his hands, draped over his face.  He could hide there forever and be perfectly content, he decided as he kissed her all the way down her belly. Open-mouthed and passionate, while her breathing sharpened and she clutched him to her body and he allowed his tongue to trail all the way from her waist to the skin just underneath her breasts. He grimaced when her squirming made it difficult for him to paint a second line and put his hands on either side of her waist to hold her still as he made love to her belly with his mouth and steadied her with her own hair as he lifted his head to adjust his caresses to her neck. 

Enjoying her soft sounds as he nibbled her neck; his hands now squeezing her breasts as he carried her away from the wall, toward his bed. Her hands were everywhere on him, clutching him, stroking him, causing his muscles to become taught and flex back and forth with quiet pulsations of lust and attraction as he slid his trousers down just a bit further.  He was never one to rush things when it came to the bedroom not when he was sober at least. Not when he was actually making love. Raunchy sex against a brick wall in the middle of the night was nothing like this, he did not take care with those women and just undid them and had done with it. But this, the girl of his dreams was no occasion for that, this time he was sober, this time he wanted her to feel and experience everything, wanting to enjoy everything along with her and take his time. His trousers dropped just a little and his erection, still clad in his braises as it scraped along the inside of her right leg and he groaned hoarsely at the contact.

_"James..."_ she moaned,  " _Don't stop!"_  as she stumbled backwards onto the bed taking him with her.

Elizabeth's wish was as ever -his command- and he easily stepped out of his trousers, thankful that he had loosened them to make sliding out of them easier. He made a move to struggle out of his braises when she stopped him and tried to help. This was just too much for him, sex was one thing but having her undress him was an entirely new experience. As she slid the shorts down his legs her nails brushing his most intimate places he nearly lost his control and had to struggle to maintain it.  She blushed; modest. It made James laugh. The knowledge that this woman who could hold a sword to his throat, threaten his life, run around the seas with a bunch of cutthroats could not look at a naked man without blushing.  

"What?" she asked, forcing herself to look at him. 

"Nothing." he said quickly, "It's nothing." taking his braises from her and folding them neatly atop his discarded clothes before turning to her and embracing her as he took her back down to the bed and giving her a kiss. "God Lizzie...look what they did to you."

James fingered the bruises and scars on her, taking care to kiss every one in the utmost reverence as she laid there with her eyes closed fighting her desire to weep. She hated the way he made her feel, hated that she had been so foolish to reject him when he worshiped her so much. He continued to kiss her, to stroke her, as she pulled her hero close, allowing him to capture her mouth as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pinned her gently beneath him, his hips damn-near cradling hers. James groaned loudly, deep in his throat, his body raging at him to finish it to do what the male body was meant for and do what he needed to do. But he wouldn't. Not yet. It had to be her choice, he had to hear it from her before he did anything else.

"Tell me to stop...before I go too far." He said, straining.

"Just be gentle with me...I've never..." she whispered.

"Are you certain Lizzie? Absolutely certain?"

Elizabeth shook her head, pulling him closer to her kissing his neck as she brought up her hips to connect to his finally joining their bodies amidst the candlelight. He paused, feeling the softness of her swarm around him, embrace his manhood as a lock would when fitting in the right key and he buried his face in her shoulder and did the first thrust. Her back arched in his hands and she moaned as her womanhood swelled with arousal and then she pulsed. Jerking around him, as he pulled out a half an inch just enough to give her a moment's peace before the second thrust and this time he eased his way in just a little bit further. He felt her clutch him, tense around him as he did and she dug her nails into the taught corded muscles of his back as he arched like some sort of feline. 

_"James...oh god..."_ she breathed, gripping him like an anchor. "Be careful please, be gentle..."

James nodded, "of course Lizzie..." he stroked her breasts kissing her, "I'd never hurt you...not on purpose."

She nodded, looking at the earnest expression on his face, the ire in those green eyes of his and she trusted him completely. This was her hero, the man who had faced death itself in her name. He would never hurt her. She sat up to take him in further, feeling when he met her barrier and eased himself in. She stiffened for a moment but true to his word James did not break her but slid in, careful not to hurt her and after a brief burning sensation what followed could only be described as pure madness. Her body, free of inhibitory skin took him inside her fully and she wrapped her legs around his waist to lock him in place. He pulled out a little bit further each time, so that with each plunge was harder, deeper, faster and she loved it. Rutting hard against the curve of his pelvis as he held her against him by her back and buttocks, back and forth, up and down till she was screaming.

" _James! Kiss me!"_ she breathed and brought his mouth down hard on hers.

_"Lizzie..."_ he moaned into her mouth as it happened.

He knew it was coming, could feel it as he pumped himself into her as he felt this rush of liquid, hot, smooth liquid coming into her and then she felt him shudder. His eyes closed as she clenched around him and then he fell.  Landed on top of her as she panted from release tangling her hands in his dark hair as he closed his eyes, All this time he had waited for this moment, and now that it'd happened he did not want to bring it to an end. Instead he laid on her, resting his head for a moment as the first mate relieved the captain of his duties and James felt a pang of guilt over how she and James were here making love while they worked non-stop. James on the other hand seemed quite comfortable as he rolled over so that he was spooning her, with his face hidden in her golden hair as he drifted off, not caring in that moment,back at home,  that he would no longer be considered a gentleman.

 

 

 


End file.
